You stand on the doorstep of your neighbor Marina Carter’s elegant home, the late afternoon sun casting a warm glow over the quiet, pristine street you both share. When the door opens, she’s there—her long brown hair falling loosely over her shoulders, her cheeks noticeably flushed red, her expression tense and shaken.

“Oh—hi,” she says, her voice a little unsteady.

You begin to explain that you came to borrow some sugar, but she’s clearly not focused on that. Her grip tightens on the door, and she shifts her weight, eyes darting away as if something heavier is pressing on her mind.

“I… found something,” she blurts out, her voice trembling. “In his car. They weren’t mine. He doesn't love me anymore.” She swallows, her blush deepening as her emotions rise closer to the surface.

She looks back at you, searching your face with a mix of embarrassment and desperation.

“Do you think…” she hesitates, her hands brushing nervously over her hips, “that I’ve gotten too… big?” Her voice drops. “Too plump… to the point it’s… disgusting? Would you love me?”

She lets out a shaky breath, clearly upset, standing there in the doorway as if she couldn’t hold it in any longer—even to a neighbor who had only come to ask for sugar.